So Far, So Good
by Jacey Lane
Summary: James is half out of a window, and Lily is confused and feeling a little guilty. Definitely not my best work, but read it anyways. I don't mind flames.


I, James MacKaeryn Potter, am sitting on the sill of an open window, in one of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's highest classrooms, a blank piece of parchment and a bundle of silvery material on the floor beneath me. I am wearing a loose black T-shirt, black jeans, black shoes... if not for the paleness of my skin and the moonlight casting me into shadow, a person might very well slide a glance over me and never know I was there. One foot is propped up against one side of the window; the other is outside, hanging far, far above the grounds. My back is pressed against the opposite side of the window. In my right hand I am holding a knife with a five inch blade; to the left of my foot is a brown glass bottle.

At first glance, I am sure you would see nothing wrong, am I right? The unofficial leader of the Marauders out on a midnight stroll, up to another stupid prank on the Slytherins, having a drink to aide the thinking process. Yes, that is what would run through your thoughts when you first saw me. I think it is with the second glance that you would see something a little... off. The knife in my hand has a very cold, very metallic glint to its edge, does it not? And my mouth is not curved into a nasty smirk at the thought of humiliating that slime ball Snape. The brown glass bottle at my foot is more than half-empty by now I suppose, though I stopped thinking about that a long time ago. And... what is this?... my arm is not its usual pale white... it is crimson red with blood. My own blood, for that matter. Yes, _that _is what you would see at second glance, or maybe, if you're dense, on your third.

What, you ask, could possibly drive James Potter, the 'bloke who has everything,' to sit on the sill of an open window, half out of it, drinking and cutting himself? Ah, yes, my friend with no name, that is what you ask yourself. The answer is quite simple, actually. You see, I don't have everything.

I have no love.

Well, I have love _for _someone, but that love is by no means returned. I have the brotherly love from my mates, but as much as I appreciate it, how can that compare to the love of a beautiful woman, or the love of your blood-family? It can't. I am a very spoiled boy, you see, rejection is something that cuts me deeply, very deeply indeed, deeper than the knife I hold in my right hand. I cannot bear it.

And she knows this.

Oh yes, she knows this. She uses it against me everyday. Does she find pleasure in it, I wonder? In seeing me break everyday because I know she could never care for me as the person I truly am? Or does she really not know how much she hurts me? I do not suppose it really matters much though, does it? I will never be good enough for her. This I know, and this is what hurts me most.

I put up a good show though, if I may say so. No one knows the depth of my feelings for her, that evil, vile, petite, bitchy little readhead. At least, that's what I assume... I've seen Remus watching me lately, while I'm watching her, with that unnerving, knowing stare of his. Quite creepy, really, since I've hidden it so well so far.

I've been told I'm a very calm person when I'm drunk. I wouldn't know. I don't remember. That's the point of the whole exercise, you see. To not remember.

For a little while, I have peace from the demons of my nightmares, the chilly efficiency of my family, the sharp darts of poison from the thorns of my beautiful rose. For a little while, there is nothing but the pain in my forearm, the blood trickling warm and sticky between my fingers as it drips unimpeded from my open, fresh wounds. And when I wake up, my head aches too much for me to think of anything else but that.

And then I face another day of rejection from behind my mask of arrogance. No one sees me; if she does she does not care.

I press the blade once more against my cold skin, and this time it bites deeper than ever before. I reach for the brown glass bottle to the left of my foot and smile.

_So far so good_

_'Cause no one knows I'm faking_

_I wish I could show you the toll it's taking_

_Sometimes I live as if there's no tomorrow_

_So far so good._

I, Lillian Jayne Evans, am sitting in the window seat of my dorm room in Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reminiscing on the past few weeks. It makes me sad, as well as angry. Sad for the thing I could possibly be giving up, angry at how stupid I've been. The silence seems to be mocking me... I can hear the voices in my head that much clearer. _'Why do you hate me, Lily?' 'Because you're an egotistical jerk, Potter. That's all you've ever been.'_ How could I have been so stupid? Do I lie to myself that well?

I _hurt _him. And I knew what I was doing when I did it.

I never knew I could. It's never happened before. All these years, all the taunts and the fights, all the 'will you go out with me's, nothing has ever seemed like anything but that: taunts. And now that I can see what I'm doing to him... I can't stop. I'm killing both of us.

How do you go from hating someone for four years to loving them in six months? It's so confusing. I don't know what to do. And now he's not even asking me out. When I finally start considering giving him a chance, he stops... liking me? Or has he just finally given up? I don't know!

I can't take the silence and the stillness. I have to move. I grab my cloak and quietly head out of the Tower.

The air is drafty and cool, but not cold. The stillness and the silence, not so very different from that of the dorm, are now comforting, whereas before they were suffocating. I suppose this is because there's a chance I might get caught, or maybe it's just because I'm walking around my home. Whatever; I don't care.

James... what is it about him now that's so different from before? He's still the same egotistical jerk in public; he's still incredibly handsome. Is it the look in his eyes when I catch him watching me? That look of intense longing mixed with a profound hopelessness that breaks my heart... Maybe it's the fact that I caught him in the common room once, with a look on his face that said he'd changed... changed a lot.

The hypocrisy of my thoughts hits me, and I have to choke back a hysterical laugh. Here I am, almost admitting to myself that I might be in... that I might _like _this guy, when less than 12 hours ago I was yelling at him, looking down my stuck up nose at him, condemning him for everything he is.

Everything he's not anymore.

I run a hand over my face, feeling more desperate than I've ever felt in my life. Thinking about him... it makes me lonely. Why? Because I want him. I want him in a way that I've never wanted any other guy. (There, I admitted it.) And I keep screwing up every chance I might have.

I look around me, and I notice for the first time that my feet have carried me to some of the highest corridors in the school. Most of these classrooms aren't used... but... that door down there is open. Moonlight is spilling through the rectangular opening, pooling on the stone floor. Curious, I start towards the supposed-to-be-empty classroom.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing.

James was sitting there, half out of the window – this high up? - with a knife in his hand. There was an empty glass beer bottle sitting on the floor beneath him, and a bundle of something else... and more bottles in the corner over there.

I must have gasped or made some other small noise, because he looked over to me right then. He smiled, a very crooked smile, and his eyes were glazed over. "Hullo, Lillian," he slurred. I just stared, shocked beyond speech. Why...?

"James?" I asked tentatively. "Are you... what are you doing?" He laughed, choked on air, and started coughing like he was going to die in two seconds. When the hacking finally reduced itself to pained wheezing, he said, "Just sitting here." I began to slowly walk towards him, not knowing what I could possibly do for him, but I kept walking anyway. When I was standing by his side, he looked up at me, smiling that same crooked smile. "Lillian... my thorny rose...," he murmured, his eyes beginning to slide shut. "No, James, don't..." Too late. He was out cold.

His long body sagged... towards the very open, very _high _window. _Holy shit! _my mind screamed. Grabbing him, I jerked as hard as I could, which merely resulted in us both tumbling to the floor of the empty classroom. Thank God.

He was still out, naturally. _What to do, what to do...? Ok, well... levitation. I'll levitate his body to the Tower. Yes, that'll work._ I had no idea what I'd do after that, though. Pushing that thought from my mind, I muttered the charm that would comfortable carry James back to his bed where he should be.

Unfortunately, the night's surprises were not over yet.

There was blood on the floor.

_I feel a little bit left of center_

_But then again we've all been there before_

_Every time I see a lost cause coming_

_It's nothing less, nothing more_

_Every time I get lost in paradise_

_I find a way to screw it up somehow_

_It's not the way it's supposed to be_

_But it'll do for now_

_lyrics ©Thornley_


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